Emmaline
“You can’t trust an academic website to tell you what you need to know about your professor!” Delia says, swinging the hand off her hip to grab my laptop. She snatches it and sits next to me on my bed.
“What?” I raise my hands and cock my head to the side, getting sassy about her just grabbing my laptop.
Delia raises her eyebrows until her forehead crinkles. She’s bringing as much sass as I am today. “You have to Google that shit, Facebook stalk, etc.,” Delia lifts a hand up from her frantic typing and waves her hand. “Otherwise you’re not going to find the real deal — and I hear there are some real treasures at our school, if ya know what I mean,” Delia says, waggling her eyebrows.
“That’s … well,” I don’t really know what to say back to that. I knew that Delia had plenty of boyfriends since I’d known her, but I wasn’t so sure that I would ever consider the teachers part of the dating pool. I started thinking about how weird it would be. I mean, staying up to date on reading is hard enough, how would you date someone who knew you stayed up too late in the library getting more sources for your latest paper? Weird. Not that I knew what to do with a normal boyfriend. That’s why I’m boyfriend-less and pretty much cool with it. Delia does not make me jealous with the fools she messes around with anyway.
Delia’s eyes go wide. “Wow, he’s fine as hell. And I bet if he reads poetry and shit, well that’s bound to give you a lady boner—“
I can’t let her finish, and I grab my computer back. We were supposed to be going over our schedules to find out details about our classes, and see what teachers were like as far as grading went. “Oh my God!” Delia makes everything about sex sometimes, but then I look at the screen.
Delia is right, though. Professor Ethan Wesley. I don’t think I’ve ever imagined anything more attractive than that man sitting at the edge of a desk and reading poetry. I think I'm actually getting a little wet at the idea. If I tell Delia she’ll never let me live it down, but I mean, she’s my friend so I have to give her something. “Well, actually, he’s …” I have no idea what to say.
“He’s fucking fine as hell, and girl your face is bright red. I guess old guys are your type. I don’t blame you, not with this man,” Delia says laughing.
I realize where I recognize that name. My freshman year my mom told me about him, said she had an old friend who worked at the school and said maybe I’d take some of his classes. Oh God.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Delia says. She shuts my laptop and holds my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Too hot for you, babe?”
I laugh nervously and squeeze her hand back. I think I’m actually sweating a little bit. “Umm, yeah, he’s hot. He was my mom’s friend though so that’s super weird. I mean, he’s already my teacher … and my mom’s friend … so it's weird that he’s hot but like—“
“Damn, girl, you got it bad!” Delia stands up and grabs her sunglasses and heads for the door. “I’ll leave you alone for some Googling. Use your birthday present! I’ll lock the door,” she finishes with a whisper. “Coffee, tomorrow, and tell me how many times you came,” Delia says, waggling her eyebrows at me and shooting finger guns.
“Delia, Jesus girl,” I say, exasperated. But the truth is … I'm going to dig around on the Internet and find out whatever I can about my professor. His face is like permanently burned into my brain right now and I can’t think of anything else. “I’ll give you the full dossier, cross my heart,” I say, drawing an x over my heart.
Delia winks, and then slides her glasses down over her eyes and heads out the door. I hear the click of the lock, and I head for the nightstand drawer. I slide down my joggers and my panties. I tell myself, I won’t go overboard, because I did actually plan to go for a quick run around campus before classes start up again and I’m thinking about more readings and papers. But I can already tell by how my pussy is aching that I might wear myself out in a minute just looking at pictures of him on the Internet.
This is by far the most inappropriate thing I’ve ever done in my life — leave it to Delia — but I mean, masturbating while thinking about your professor, that’s harmless. It's just a fantasy. I mean, when I see him and he’s my teacher, I’m sure I’ll feel totally different.
Maybe he just photographs well. Because why would my mom just be friends with him, if he’s that good looking?
Okay, that’s the sort of weird thought that could really kill the vibe before I even twist my vibe to turn it on.
My curiosity leads me to read a professional biography, and he’s published about basically every author I have loved, ever. I gasp, kind of shocked, but that turns me on as much as looking at his face. He wrote about Mary Shelley, my favorite author, on several occasions. For a few seconds, I think I might read those papers with the online library access the university has, but my twitching clit urges me to look at more pictures.
It isn’t long before I find him on a Forbes list.
Whoa!
So, Dr. Wesley doesn’t need to teach at all. He’s been in school more years than I’ve been alive, and he’s loaded. He ran a publishing firm for many years, and he owns a media conglomerate. He teaches, according to the article with the pictures, because that’s his true passion.
The shots of him holding leather bounds, or the one where he’s got both of his palms flat on a desk—God, I can’t turn that vibrator on fast enough.
I’m even going to tell Delia the answer at coffee tomorrow.
Four.
That’s how many times I cum just looking at these pictures of him. I stop when I realize that my whole dorm room smells like sex and I probably want it to air out before my roommate gets back tomorrow. I read more about him, and my heart is racing. He’s what I might build if I actually wanted a boyfriend … but not now. I’d need 10 or 20 years to be even worth his attention.
I sigh.
But that’s what a fantasy is for, right? I mean, there’s no way that he can be anything more than a fantasy. A teacher crush that I get over when I’m done with my course load. Though, majoring in English, I'm actually going to be taking a lot of classes that I know now that only he teaches. I gulp. I never should've done this. I could have just enjoyed the class but I let Delia put naughty thoughts in my head!
I think about texting her, but I don’t want her to pump me for details. As hard as the first day of classes are, we’ll have something fun to talk about over coffee tomorrow morning.
Maybe it'll give me enough time to accept that I was just doomed from the instant I got on his schedule, because he’s everything I didn’t know I wanted in a man.